The life and times of one woman, a remodel, two kids, and a memory of her former career. I ask myself the same questions I hope crosses everyone's mind... Why don't they invent drive thru everythings? What does the term homemaker really imply? When did my wardrobe include spitup?

5/20/08

I love my job. My young (and might I add, talented, gorgeous, perfect?) clients. The flexible scheduling. The rewarding progress. Daily lessons in mastering language, healthy choices, appreciating nature and literature, respecting themselves and others. Skill training such as how to unbutton a sweater, self feeding, creating a matching outfit, recycling, clapping on cue, skipping, drawing a stick figure. Of course, it has it's drawbacks. Heavy lifting. Ear piercing noise levels. Headaches. Exhaustion. Client tension. Confusion.And the pay. Well, the pay is more than I could have imagined. Aside from lavish hugs and countless kisses, there are compliments, meaningful smiles, overwhelming adoration, and those are just the perks. The base pay is love. A whole lot of love. And the benefits are pretty good, too. It's the role they invite me to play in their lives. The role of playmate, guide, teacher, artist, stylist, singer, planner, magician, nurse, chef, fairy, and friend. The all encompassing role of being their mother. I love my job.

Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, champagne in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming “WOO HOO what a ride!”